The Wishing-Chair Again (7 page)

“Look,” said Mollie, pointing to a nearby sign-post. “It says, 'To the Village of Slipperies.' Do you know that village, Chinky?”

“No. But I've heard of it,” said Chinky. “The people there aren't very nice—slippery as eels—can't trust them or believe a word they say. I don't think we'll go that way.”

He went to look at the other arm of the sign-post and came back looking very pleased.

“It says 'Dame Quick-Fingers',” he said. “Isn't that good?”

“Why is it good?” asked Mollie, in surprise.

“Oh, didn't you know—she's my great-aunt,” said Chinky. “She'll help us all right. She'll be sure to know a spell for growing wings. She keeps a pack of flying dogs, you know, because of the Slipperies—they simply fly after them when they come to steal her chickens and ducks.”

“Goodness—I'd love to see some flying dogs,” said Mollie. “Where does this aunt of yours live?”

“Just down the road, round a corner, and by a big rowan tree,” said Chinky. “She's really nice. I dare say she'd ask us to tea if we are as polite as possible. She loves good manners.”

“Well—you go and ask her if she knows how to grow an extra wing on our chair,” said Mollie. “We'd better stay here with the chair, I think, in case anyone thinks of stealing it again. We can easily bring it along to your aunt's cottage, if she's in. We won't carry it all the way there in case she's not.”

“Right. I'll go,” said Chinky. “I won't be long. You just sit in the chair till I come back—and don't you let anyone steal it.”

He ran off down the road and disappeared round a corner. Mollie and Peter sat down in the chair to wait. The chair creaked. It sounded very tired indeed. Mollie patted its arms. “You'll soon be all right once you have got a fourth wing,” she said. “Cheer up.”

Chinky hadn't been gone very long before the sound of footsteps made the children look round. Five little people were coming along the road from the Village of Slipperies. They looked most peculiar.

“They must be Slipperies,” said Peter, sitting up. “Now we must be careful they don't play a trick on us and get the chair away. Aren't they queer-looking?”

The five little creatures came up and bowed low. “Good-day,” they said. “We come to greet you and to ask you to visit our village,”

PETER and Mollie looked hard at the five Slipperies. Each Slippery had one blue eye and one green, and not one of them looked straight at the children! Their hair was slick and smooth, their mouths smiled without stopping, and they rubbed their bony hands together all the time.

“I'm sorry,” said Peter, “but we don't want to leave our chair. We're waiting here with it till our friend Chinky comes back from seeing his Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers.”

“Oh, she's gone to market,” said one of the Slipperies. “She always goes on Thursdays.”

“Oh dear,” said Peter. “How tiresome! Now we shan't be able to get a fourth wing for our Wishing-Chair.”

“Dear me—is this a Wishing-Chair?” said the Slipperies, in great interest. “It's the first time we've seen one. Do let us sit in it.”

“Certainly not,” said Peter, feeling certain that if he let them sit in the chair they would try to fly off in it.

“I hear that Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers has some flying dogs,” said Mollie, hoping that the Slipperies would look frightened at the mention of them. But they didn't.

They rubbed their slippery hands together again and went on smiling. “Ah, yes—wonderful dogs they are. If you stand up on your chair, and look over the field yonder, you may see some of them flying around,” said one Slippery.

“
Really!”
said Mollie, thrilled. “Peter, let's stand up in the chair and see if we
can
see the dogs.”

They stood on the seat of the chair. The Slipperies clustered round them. “Now look right down over that field,” began one of them. “Do you see a tall tree?”

“Yes,” said Mollie.

“Well, look to the right of it and you'll see the roof of a house.”

“Yes,” said Mollie again.

“And then to the right of that and you'll see another tree,” said the Slippery.

“Can't you tell me
exactly
where to look?” said Mollie, getting impatient. “I can't see a single flying dog. Only a rook or two.”

“Well, now look to the left and...” began another Slippery, when Peter jumped down from the chair.

“You're just making it all up,” he said. “Go on, be off with you! I don't like any of you.”

The Slipperies lost their smiles, and looked nasty. They laid hands on the Wishing-Chair.

“I shall whistle for the flying dogs,” said Peter suddenly. “Now let me see—what is the whistle, ah, yes...” And he suddenly whistled a very shrill whistle indeed.

The Slipperies shot off at once as if a hundred of the flying dogs were after them! Mollie laughed.

“Peter! That's not really a whistle for flying dogs, is it?”

“No, of course not. But I had to get rid of them somehow,” said Peter. “I had a feeling they were going to trick us with their silly smiles and rubbing hands and odd eyes—so I had to think of some way of tricking
them
instead. Well—they've gone. Good riddance to them.”

“I wish Chinky would come,” said Mollie, sitting down in the chair again. “He's been ages. And it's all a waste of time, his going to find his Great-Aunt, if she's at the market. We shall have to go there, I expect, and carry the chair all the way.”

“Why, there
is
Chinky!” said Peter, waving. “Oh, good, he's dancing and smiling. He's got the spell to make another wing grow.”

“Then his Great-Aunt couldn't have gone to market! “ said Mollie. “Hey, Chinky! Have you got the spell? Was your Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers in?”

“Yes—and awfully pleased to see me,” said Chinky, running up. “And she gave me just enough magic to make another wing grow, so we shan't be long now.”

“Five Slipperies came up, and they said your Great-Aunt always goes to market on Thursdays,” said Mollie.

“You can't believe a word they say,” said Chinky. “I told you that. My word, I'm glad they didn't trick you in any way. They usually trick everyone, no matter how clever they may be”

“Well, they didn't trick us,” said Peter.

“We were much too smart for them—weren't we, Mollie?”

“Yes. They wanted to sit in the chair when they knew it was a Wishing-Chair,” said Mollie. “But we wouldn't let them.”

“I should think not,” said Chinky. He showed the children a little blue box. “Look—I've got a smear of ointment here that is just enough to grow a red wing to match the other wings. Then the chair will be quite all right.”

“Well, let's rub it on,” said Peter. Chinky knelt down by the chair—and then he gave a cry of horror.

“What's the matter?” said the children, in alarm.

“Look—somebody has cut off the other three wings of the chair! “ groaned Chinky. “Cut them right off short. There's only a stump left of each.”

Mollie and Peter stared in horror. Sure enough the other three wings had been cut right off. But how? And when? Who could have done it? The children had been with the chair the whole time.

“I do think you might have kept a better guard on the chair,” said Chinky crossly. “I really do. Didn't I warn you about the ways of the Slipperies? Didn't I say you couldn't trust them? Didn't I . . .”

“Oh, Chinky—but when could it have been done?” cried Mollie. “I tell you, we were here the whole of the time.”

“Standing by the chair?” asked Chinky.

“Yes—or
on
it,” said Peter.

“
On
it! Whatever did you stand
on
it, for?” said Chinky, puzzled. “To stop the Slipperies sitting down?”

“No—to see your Great-Aunt's flying-dogs,” said Peter. “The Slipperies said they were over there, and if we would stand up on the chair seat we could just see them flying around. But we couldn't.”

“Of course you couldn't.” said Chinky. “And for a very good reason, too—they're all at the cottage with my Great-Aunt. I saw them!”

“Oh—the dreadful story-tellers! “ cried Mollie. “Peter—it was a trick! Whilst we were standing up there trying to see the dogs, one of the Slipperies must have quietly snipped off the three wings and put them in his pocket.”

“Of course!” said Chinky. “Very simple—and you're a pair of simpletons to get taken in by such a silly trick.”         

Mollie and Peter went very red. “What shall we do?” asked Peter. “I'm very sorry about it. Poor old chair—one wing not grown and the other three snipped away. It's a shame.”

“Thank goodness Chinky has the Growing Ointment for wings,” said Mollie.

“Yes—but I've only got just enough for
one
wing,” said Chinky. “One wing isn't going to take us very far, is it?”

“No,” said Mollie. “Whatever are we going to do?”

“I shall have to ask Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers for some more growing ointment, that's all,” said Chinky, gloomily. “And this time you can come with me,
and
bring the chair too. If I leave you here alone with it. you'll get tricked again, and I shall come back and find the
legs
are gone next time, and I can't even grow wings on them!”

“It's not nice of you to keep on and on about it, Chinky,” said Mollie, lifting up the chair with Peter. “We're very sorry. We didn't know quite how clever the Slipperies were. Oooh—horrid creatures, with their odd eyes and deceitful smiles.”

They followed Chinky down the road and along a lane. Soon he came to his Great-Aunt's cottage. It was very snug and small. To Mollie's enormous delight, five or six little brown dogs, rather like spaniels, were flying about the garden on small white wings. They barked loudly and flew to the three of them.

“Now, now—these are friends of mine,” said Chinky, and patted the nearest dog, which was flying round his head. “Don't lick my ears too much—I haven't brought a towel with me!”

It was strange to have the little dogs sailing about the air like gulls! One flew up to Mollie and rested its front paws on her shoulder. She laughed, and the dog licked her face. Then off it flew again, and chased after a sparrow, barking madly.

Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers came to the door, looking-surprised. “Why, Chinky—back again so soon!” she said. “What's happened?”

Chinky told her. “So you see, Great-Aunt, now that the poor chair has lost
all
its wings, I'm afraid that the Growing Ointment you gave me won't be enough,” said Chinky. “I'm so sorry.”

“Well, well—it takes a very clever person to see through the Slippery ways,” said his Great-Aunt. “You'd better come in and have tea now you're all here. I've got some treacle tarts in the oven, they'll be just ready.”

This sounded good. The children put down the Wishing-Chair and Great-Aunt Quick-Fingers got the little treacle tarts out of the oven. “There you are,” she said. “Get your fingers nice and sticky with those! I'll go and make some more Growing Ointment for you. It won't take long.”

She disappeared, and the children sat and munched the lovely treacle tarts. “Best I've ever tasted,” said Peter. “I do like your Great-Aunt, Chinky.”

Just at the moment she came back, with a fairly large jar. She handed it to Chinky. “There you are. Use that and see what happens. But remember, you can only use it once on anything. The spell doesn't act twice. It's no good trying to use the ointment another time on the chair, to make it grow wings, because it won't be any use.”